


Public intoxication

by Mystrothedefender



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25728310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrothedefender/pseuds/Mystrothedefender
Summary: Joker has escaped from Arkham and Batman wonders why.
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 17
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

Joker had been doing so well, almost 2 years he’d been in Arkham now with no escapes or major issue.

Batman had visited him occasionally in that time, stopped in to see how he was doing, usually while dropping someone else off, although Joker always acted as if it were only to see him. Sometimes it was just to see him.

He was so proud. Something he never expected. After over a decade of horror Batman seemed to have convinced Joker that there was a better path for him to follow, and that he wouldn’t be alone if he pursued it.

And so, tonight’s escape was unexpectedly unexpected.

Batman had been trailing him since he’d got word of it. At a safe distance, so Joker couldn’t see him. He didn’t want to swoop down and pick him up, he knew he should, he knew he should… but he couldn’t help submitting to the curiosity in him.

What was he doing?

Why had he escaped?

Why now?

His first stop had been a convenience store. As Batman watched him walk in he’d felt a pang of anxiety in his chest, but he resisted following him in, he told himself to wait until he gave him good cause to approach him.

Joker had bought a bottle of whiskey, some sour gummy bears, and a large bag of Cheetos.

He had even paid for them, although Batman had no idea where he would have gotten physical cash from.

Batman followed him as he walked down the streets, taking a gulp of alcohol every few steps, his path slowly beginning to veer as he became intoxicated.

He knew Joker used to drink a lot, but a few years of sobriety seemed to have lowered his tolerance, and by the time he was halfway through the bottle he was stumbling, laughing at himself each time he almost tripped.

Public intoxication was a crime, but was it bad enough for him to confront him?

He still hadn’t done anything threatening or violent, nothing worse than someone on a night out might do.

He sat on the roof of a bank, while Joker sat in the alley beneath him, sat on a dumpster, rocking back and forth, sucking from the bottle and sporadically popping candy into his mouth.

Batman crossed his legs, resting his chin on his hand, watching him. Joker seemed so content. Obviously, him drinking wasn’t a good thing, it could interact with the meds he was taking, he’d probably have to have his stomach pumped when he returned to Arkham. But he seemed happy in that moment.

“Batsy!” Joker sang as he finished his sweets, throwing the now empty bottle onto the floor, laughing as it smashed against the concrete.

Batman stilled where he sat. Had Joker seen him?

“Darling. I know you’re there!” Joker hopped down from the dumpster, stretching and letting out a groan, “I’m ready to go home now!”

Batman frowned, letting out a huff. Joker was hoping to use him as a taxi service, it seemed.

Joker stumbled out into the street, looking around. “Batman!” he yelled, impatient.

Batman dropped down from the roof, following Joker out into the street. “Joker?” he said softly from behind him, making him jump.

Joker clutched his chest, letting out a laugh and stumbling forward.

“Bats!” he slurred, turning, throwing his arms open and lurching forward to hug him.

Batman felt himself tense reflexively, part of him sure Joker was going to attack him now he had the chance.

After a second, he forced himself to relax and wrapped an arm around him to give him a soft pat on the back.

“I knew you’d come to get me,” Joker smiled, he pulled out of the hug, and reached out to poke Batman on the nose, “You’re such a predictable guy.”

Batman felt a smile try to show itself on his lips, he pushed it back. “Why did you escape?” he asked.

“Ugh, straight to the point, huh?” Joker rolled his eyes, “I wanna slap the handsome right off your face.” He reached out a hand and mimed slapping him, blowing a raspberry as he did. “Stupid handsome man…”

Now Batman let himself smile. “Joker,” he said softly, “I need to know, or I can’t help.”

Joker blew another raspberry, then huffed. “I just wanted Haribo,” he growled. He threw his head back and let out a groan, “They’re so good, Bats! I haven’t had them in years!”

“You’ve been drinking,” Batman said, “Why did you buy alcohol?”

Joker shrugged, “It was just there… I’ll get told off for escaping, might as well get drunk too,” he let out a tittered laugh, looking Batman up and down, a soft smile on his face, “You’re so handsome,” he growled.

“That’s enough, Joker,” Batman said calmly, shaking his head.

“You are though,” Joker purred.

“You can barely see what I look like, Joker.”

Joker let out a giggle. “Not your face, dumbass,” he reached out his hand, splaying his hand over Batman’s chest, “I mean here.”

“Ok,” Batman grumbled, his gut twisting with discomfort.

“Only a truly beautiful person would help out someone like me.” Joker spoke as if he were talking to himself, his eyes lidded as he focussed on Batman, his hand trailing up from Batman’s chest to cup his chin. “I can’t believe I found you,” he continued, “We’re kindred spirits, tied together by bonds of fate. I think if one of us died the other would just _poof_ out of existence. We’re like soul mates. Do you believe in soul mates, Bats..?”

Joker paused his rambling, waiting for Batman to respond.

“I can’t say I do..?” Batman replied, unsure if he should say what he truly thought, or just what Joker wanted to hear.

Joker let out a groan. “I didn’t used to think so either, before I met you…” he frowned, “But I… I don’t know if I was _me_ before I met you. I…” he shook his head, the energy around him changing from content to confused. “I don’t think I was really _alive_ before I met you, Batman.”

Batman’s gut tensed, his teeth gritting, he couldn’t say he didn’t know what Joker meant. He couldn’t say he didn’t feel the same, but he… couldn’t say it.

He swallowed hard, reaching out a hand to rub Joker’s arm. “Let’s get you back home, Joker.”

Joker let out a whine, closing his eyes, “Ok…” he whined, the tone of his voice that of an upset teen who’d been told to clean their room.

“The next time you want candy just tell me, ok? I can get you some.”

Joker smiled again, “The guys at Arkham will just get me the shitty off brand ones, you know that.”

“I didn’t say I’d go through Arkham, Joker. If you want Haribo I’ll bring you Haribo.”

Joker’s brow raised in excitement and happiness, “Really?” he squeaked.

“Yes,” Batman affirmed, “Any kind you want.”

Joker let out a soft squeak, pinching Batman’s chin and wiggling it softly, “You’re the best.”

“But you have to stay in Arkham,” Batman forced.

Joker pouted, his hand dropping. “Fine… I won’t try to escape again.”

“It’s been 2 years,” Batman said, unable to stop himself, “Two years, and you break out for gummy bears?”

“ _Sour_ gummy bears,” Joker cooed. He leaned in close, a soft and goading smile on his face, “I’d do it again,” he whispered.

He inhaled hard and sharp, his eyes wide, his face turning a similar shade to his hair. He didn’t quite turn his head in time as vomit spewed from his mouth. Batman grit his teeth as it splashed on him, his eyes closing for a moment, his teeth grit.

“No!” Joker yelled, spitting a dreg of sick onto the floor. “My gummy bears!” He let out a loud strangled cry, stumbling back, lifting his hand to wipe his mouth.

Batman cleared his throat, trying his hardest to ignore the smell of vomit on him. The smell and sight of it always made him feel sick himself. “If you come back to Arkham right now I will bring you gummy bears tomorrow.”

Joker looked at him, tears in his eyes and snot bubbles in his nose. “…You promise?” he said, sounding almost cute.

Batman held out his hand, “I promise. Come back with me.”

Joker nodded, stumbling back towards him, reaching out and taking his hand, “’K.”


	2. Chapter 2

“If it isn’t my dear Batman,” Joker cooed from his place on the bed. A double bed with a thin mattress on a metal frame that had the usual Arkham flare of being bolted to the floor.

He spoke before Batman had so much as opened the door. He did it every time. Batman assumed Joker recognised his footsteps.

Batman entered wordlessly and sat at the writing desk across from the bed, which again was bolted to the floor.

“How’s your week been, darling?” Joker asked, his eyes not on Batman but on the fashion magazine laid out on his sheets.

“Uneventful,” Batman answered, his voice flat.

Joker let out a weak and annoyed breath, his eyes flitting to Batman, a frown ghosting his brow. “You cannot tell _me_ that your week as a caped and cowled vigilante was less eventful than _mine_ , a man who is locked in a tiny cell for 18 out of every 24 hours.” He rolled on the bed onto his back in response to Batman’s silence. “I got a new bed,” he bragged.

“Why did you request a new bed?” Batman asked. Usually when Joker was granted additional items for his good behaviour he requested things that he could spend his time on, books, games, puzzles which he’d spend about 20 minutes on before getting bored or frustrated and smashing them against the wall… not furniture. Joker’s room was almost as bare as the day he’d been given it because of that.

Joker smirked, “I’m sure you could figure out why I’d want a larger bed.” He winked at Batman, his tongue poking from between his lips in a way that was probably meant to be alluring.

“Why don’t you tell me,” Batman suggested.

Of course, he could guess why. Joker had been trying to persuade him into being physical with him for almost the entire two years he’d been in here.

The first time he’d mentioned it Batman had punched him.

Joker’s smirk softened slightly, still cocky but a little more genuine. “Well, I always thought it so awkward, Bats, you coming in and sitting there like that, while I get to lounge on the bed.”

“I’m fine with sitting here,” Batman stated.

Joker shook his head, “Don’t be silly, it’s uncomfortable as hell! I’ve sat there, I know.” He patted the bed next to him, “Come sit with me.”

Batman didn’t move.

“I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” Joker purred.

“No, you won’t,” Batman jibed, sternly.

Joker smiled and chuckled, “Well, if you insist! Come over here and let me get into that Kevlar plated armour.”

Batman swallowed back a small smile.

“Just disconnect the camera, put one of your do-dads in the door lock so they can’t get in. No one has to know.”

Of course, they would know. Batman and Joker in a room together and the camera feed just cuts out? They weren’t that stupid. But Batman knew what Joker was trying to say, it wasn’t so much that no one would know, more that they wouldn’t care.

“They’re still mad about your escape last month,” Batman said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to push their kindness.”

“They let me have the bed, didn’t they? I was only gone for a couple’ hours. They… don’t care.”

Batman watched Joker for a moment, the twitch of his brows as he talked. “Maybe _I’m_ still mad about the escape,” he grumbled, trying to keep his voice flat.

Joker’s face fell, and a pout came to his lips, “Oh, you are? Chill out, darling, I just wanted some candy, I told you.”

Batman pursed his lips as is stomach churned. Something about Joker’s tone made him uneasy.

Joker’s eyes trailed over him, his form deflating. “Aw, Bats… Did I scare you?”

“Don’t joke about this.” Batman could tell Joker was hiding something. There was a tinge to his voice, like he was forcing himself.

Joker waved a hand noncommittally to stop Batman. “I’m not…” he scoffed, the façade breaking for a moment, “I just wanted sweets, Bats, I told you.”

“You should have told me _before_ you escaped.” Batman shook his head, “All the work you’ve done, Joker.”

“… I wouldn’t throw away 2 years of work. You should know that. I’m _crazy_ but I’m not _stupid_.”

“You were stupid enough to escape for some candy and alcohol.”

Joker let out a weak sigh, sitting up on the bed and crossing his legs. “I told you, Batman. If I’d asked the staff here they wouldn’t have gotten me what I wanted.”

“And I told you I would have gotten it for you,” Batman snapped.

Joker let out a groan, holding his hands to his face, digging his nails into his skin. “That’s not the _point_ ,” he growled, his teeth grit. He threw his hands back, his eyes darting to Batman again, seeming almost panicked. “You shouldn’t do the whole psychoanalysing thing, _Bats_ , you’re shit at it.”

Batman forced out a slow breath, watching Joker’s reaction. “So, it was a control thing?”

Joker’s eyes drifted to his feet, his teeth grit as he thought.

Batman’s mind drifted back to how helpless he had felt after his most recent injury; a month laying in bed unable to leave. How depressed he’d felt. There were mornings he would have given anything to be able to behave like normal again. He couldn’t imagine feeling that for 2 years.

“I’m sorry,” Batman said, giving his head a shake.

Joker scoffed, his eyes still on his feet. “Sure.”

“In here you’re not able to wear what you want, or do what you want to when you want to, or do anything outside of your schedule. It’s necessary but that doesn’t mean it’s not… cruel. It doesn’t help that the people around you don’t care that it’s hurting you.”

Joker let out a huff of agreement, and then there was a moment of silence between them.

“Will you come sit on the new bed?” Joker asked again, his voice soft and dejected. Batman had hit a sensitive spot that hit a little close to home.

Batman nodded and got to his feet, walking to the bed and sitting down.

He had never sat on a harder bed. It may as well be made of concrete.

“This doesn’t feel very comfortable,” he observed, pressing his palms into the mattress performatively.

Joker shrugged, stretching out his legs, “Guess I’m too used to sleeping on the floor. Feels fine to me. Maybe if you loosened up, you’d feel a little more comfortable.”

Batman glanced at Joker’s legs as he stretched out, under the cuffs he could see angry red lines, scabbed skin. He looked out at his face and noticed that where Joker had dug his nails into his skin there were now small dents.

“Do they know you do that to yourself?” Batman asked slowly.

Joker looked at him quizzically. “Do what?” he asked with a dismissive shake of his head.

Batman pulled up the hem of his Arkham issue jumpsuit. Exposing the rows of scratches to the air. “This, Joker. You’ve done this to yourself, I can tell.”

“It’s,” Joker began, stumbling over himself, “It’s just the restraints.”

The way he spoke, it was a line he’d come up with, obviously fake, though the Arkham guards would have believed him.

Batman’s eyes moved to Joker’s fingernails, they were long and chipped, there were flakes of blood in the beds.

“Joker,” Batman said softly, his voice heavy with concern. “You can’t lie to me, you know.”

Joker’s eyes set themselves on the floor. “It just… makes me feel better.”

“You shouldn’t self harm,” Batman said as if it wasn’t obvious. “You’re supposed to use creative outlets.”

Joker grit his teeth, “They don’t help when it’s 4am and I haven’t slept yet, and I can’t… stop thinking.”

“I’m not letting you continue,” Batman stated. “I can’t let you.”

Joker scoffed, shaking his head, “What are you going to do about it? Come in here every night to cuff my hands and feet to the bed? How will that make things better?”

“Giver me your hand,” Batman ordered.

Joker frowned, and then complied.

Batman took Joker’s hand and reached into his belt, pulling out a tiny pair of scissors.

“…You just carry those around with you?” Joker asked quietly.

He didn’t resist as Batman gripped one of his slender bony fingers, and began to snip his nail down.

Batman was surprised at how little Joker resisted, seeming to relish the physical contact. He could hear him breathing, slow deep inhales through his nose like he was trying to inhale the activity. Joker shifted slightly on the bed, moving slightly closer to him, sitting in a more comfortable position, leaning himself against Batman and watching him work.

They sat in near silence, the clicking of the scissors filling the air.

Batman wondered, as he focussed on Joker’s nails, how long it had been since the Arkham staff had trimmed them. Of course, Joker wasn’t allowed to do it himself, but was anyone here brave enough to come near Joker with scissors or clippers? Batman would guess not. He was surprised it had never occurred to him before. They didn’t look like they’d been done in a while. They were all different lengths, all frayed. Batman felt ashamed that he’d missed such a large sign of mistreatment. He came to see Joker at least once a month, even they were just quick visits he couldn’t forgive himself for missing this. He made a mental note to launch an investigation into it. Chances were a lot of other patients were also suffering negligence like Joker was.

“Thankyou,” Joker said almost reluctantly as Batman finished clipping his nails. He pulled away, seeming brighter. “Next time you should bring nail polish.” He let out a soft happy hum, flexing his fingers into a claw and then making a fist, “That feels so much better.”

“What colour,” Batman asked.

Joker let out a scoffed laugh, “What, really? Uh, peacock green.”

Batman nodded. “I’ll bring it next time. What nights are you free?”

A smile spread across Joker’s face. “Let’s make it Wednesday?”


End file.
